


keep running home to you

by Falcine



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: CHASE COUSIN FEELINGS, Gen, everyone else is in passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falcine/pseuds/Falcine
Summary: After, Magnus and Annabeth talk about (not) saving the world and family.





	

The fog is pressing up against the window as if it could actually swallow the entire cafe whole—make it disappear like the tips of faraway buildings. Magnus meets it halfway, tapping at the cold glass with his fingertips. Across from him in the booth, Annabeth is staring out, too, idly stirring her iced mocha with a stick. 

She talks first. Annabeth always talks first, even if the force of her question makes the lump of guilt in Magnus’s stomach feel like lead. “It’s about Uncle Randolph, isn’t it?” she asks. 

Magnus tears his gaze away from the window. When he turns, he meets Annabeth’s gaze full on. She’s still stirring her drink, the beads of cold condensation running down the side of her glass as the bits of floating ice clink about, but when he falters, she reaches out to grab his hands. Magnus can feel the callouses when she squeezes tight, worn from years of this life.

“How do you do it?” he blurts, instead of answering her question. 

It’s been a year. Life before dying and Valhalla, before gods, before it all—it wasn’t exactly easy, but it was simpler. Get out of the cold, get enough food in your stomach, just last long enough to survive another day. 

If you messed up, it was on you. You didn’t set a vengeful trickster god loose. You didn’t kick start Ragnarok. 

Magnus searches Annabeth’s eyes for answers, but all he can see is the familiar grey. Chase-eyes, not demigod-eyes. 

From the way Annabeth holds on tighter to him, she gets it. “I don’t really know, Magnus,” she finally says. There’s a croak in her throat that probably came from whatever crisis she was dealing with in her own pantheon. Magnus watches the weary ways she drags a hand over her face before she takes a sip of the mocha. 

“You’re just so…,” Magnus trails off, tilting his head and searching for the right word. 

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “So what?”

“So… well put-together,” Magnus settles on. It’s not quite the right thing to say—Annabeth’s braid is coming out of its tie, little flyaway curls framing her face, and Magnus is starting to think the faint shadows under her eyes are permanent. But. The smile on her face is soft, and small, but he hasn’t seen it waver once since he’s met up with her again after…  _ after.  _ Her jacket is pristine. He knows the bag she’s hauling around has a notebook filled with half a dozen sketches and five rolls of blueprint in various stages of completion stuffed in it.

Despite everything she’d told him about the literal hell her life has been over the past couple years, Annabeth looks  _ content.  _

She laughs. “Me? Put-together?”

“Like you know you’ll make it through eventually,” Magnus says, “even if you don’t now.” 

Annabeth’s steely eyes soften. “You’ll get there,” she says, giving his hands a soft squeeze again. 

It’s the gentle reassurance in her voice, that soft confidence he can’t help but believe, that breaks him. Magnus tugs his hands away and covers his face, fingers squeezing tight to try and stem the rush of tears suddenly there, leaking from his stupid eyes.  

_ Will I?  _ he thinks. The thought slips away from him, whirls around in his head until it feels like it’s full of bursting and all he can think about is the next time he’ll let someone down. 

Magnus laughs at how ridiculous he’s being, pressing the palms of his hands harder into his eyes. Spots dance in a haze behind his eyelids.

He hears Annabeth scrape her chair back. 

She puts a hand over his hair, brushing over his exposed neck, just next to where Blitz had cut most of it away. She reaches around and pulls his hands back again, wiping away traces of tears with her thumb. Magnus feels ridiculous, but Annabeth is solid and warm and he feels like a kid again when she runs a hand through his hair, so he slowly feels his tense muscles relaxing. 

“You will,” she says firmly. Her tone leaves no room for argument, but, then again, Annabeth’s tone never did. “You’re my cousin. Of course you can do it.” 

“I couldn’t, though,” he can’t help but blurt out. 

Annabeth hooks her ankle back on her chair, pulling it up so she can sit down right there next to him. She drags his right hand between hers and settles back. “Do you want to talk about it?"

Magnus pauses. There’s a thread on his shirt, loose and dangling, even though this is the nicest one he owns. The little blue orphaned thread makes him think of that rug, of that one night melting into its softness.

He clears his throat, wraps his free hand around his cooling mug of coffee. “That’s all there is to it,” he says, frowning. “My friends needed me. I couldn’t do it. Loki’s out there, somewhere, because I messed up. Sam’s not talking to Alex and working herself half to death and I can’t even help either of them. I haven’t even talked to Hearth since we got back. I thought it was supposed to stop, after all the fighting. I thought… I’m supposed to be a  _ healer.  _ And I can’t fix any of this.” The words pour out in a torrent, and Magnus finds himself breathing harshly, tear tracks trailing down his cheeks again. He swipes at them half-heartedly, but his throat still feels too thick.   

“It wasn’t your fault, Magnus.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

Annabeth scoffs. “I know  _ you,  _ Magnus. You have to stop blaming yourself for things out of your control.” 

Magnus tightens his fingers on the cup. 

“Hey. Look at me.” 

He looks up, tentatively. Annabeth is still smiling reassuringly. “I know what that’s like, you know,” she says. “It’s hard when you’re just a kid and it feels like the entire world’s on your shoulders.” 

“I’m only a year younger than you,” Magnus says, making a face. 

Annabeth smirks. “Practically an infant.”

Magnus laughs, despite himself. “I suppose I’ve never literally had the world on my shoulders.” 

Annabeth’s eyes take on a faraway gleam. She sighs, massaging tiny circles in the palm of his hand. “I didn’t want this to happen to you,” she says, like confessing something. “It’s hard. I’m not denying that. It’s always going to be hard.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

“Just don’t stop trying,” Annabeth says. 

“What?” 

Annabeth’s stare is more intense, now. She leans in, close enough that he can see the summer freckles start to edge in over her nose. “I… Sometimes I can be a little harsh. I don’t think we can always save everyone, you know? I don’t think everything can be fixed. But I know you believe it can, and that’s what’ll get you through when it really gets hard, I think.”

Her eyes flicker back out over the rolling fog outside. Her hands are slack around his, but Magnus can feel the soft reassurance they offer him. He knows what she’s talking about, too. It’s easier to give up, sometimes. Easier to look out for yourself, write people off as lost causes.

“I won’t,” he promises. 

Annabeth grins. “Good. You make me proud, little cousin.” 

They don’t talk about Randolph. Magnus doesn’t think he  _ can  _ talk about Randolph. 

Annabeth is family enough, for now. Annabeth has  _ always  _ been family enough. 

“I used to wish you were my big sister,” Magnus confesses.

At that, Annabeth laughs. It’s a full laugh, and she reaches out to ruffle his shorn hair with glee. “Are you sure you want that? I’m a very bossy sibling, I’ve been told.”

“You don’t say?” Magnus says drily. 

She laughs again, and stands, point to her heavy bag. “Alright then. Hold my stuff, bro. We’re going for a walk.” 

Magnus takes her bag, the smile hurting his cheeks from being so bright, so easy, so  _ content.  _

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno man I was listening to the Flash musical soundtrack and thinking about my kids and this just happened.


End file.
